


Form 4549

by kimbob, Shareece (kimbob)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angry Natasha, Audits, Awkard Phil, Bakery, Clint loves baking, Getting Together, M/M, Romance, Sexy Thoughts, it's tax season
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2017-12-06 18:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimbob/pseuds/kimbob, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimbob/pseuds/Shareece
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phillip J. Coulson is a tax agent whose definition of fun is a little skewed. Clint Barton is the owner of an organic bakery who decided not to pay all of his taxes. An Audit ensues… also sexiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is loosely based on the movie stranger than fiction which I don't own

The iridescent, turquoise blue glow of an alarm clock, whose face plainly read 6:45, began to blare loudly and wake the middle aged man underneath the covers. Phil reached out from underneath his modest covers and switched the alarm off with a groan. 

Phillip J. Coulson was a tax agent; A senior auditor for the IRS to be exact. He was also a man who loved numbers, equations, and calculations. His social skills were questionable and he was also a man of very few words. 

Phil slid out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, flicking on the light as he went. It was always the same routine. He brushed his teeth for exactly three minutes, rinsed his mouth out with mouthwash, making sure to swish back and forth two times each before spitting. Afterward, he made himself a bowl of honey nut cheerios which he ate while reading the newspaper for exactly twenty minutes. Sometimes, for fun, he liked to read the scores in the sports section and add them up, only, of course when he was feeling really daring.  
Phil Coulson was someone you could call predictable. He lived a safe, predictable lifestyle and he was okay with that. He lived a life of solitude. He ate lunch alone. He walked home alone. He went to bed alone. 

Now fully dressed in a nondescript business suit, Phil made his way out of his very neat apartment and toward the bus that would take him to work. The day was the same. As always, except it wasn’t. Phil had no idea that the tax file marked Barton, Clint waited for him on his desk. More importantly, Phil had no idea that the tax file marked Barton, Clint was about to irrevocably change his life. 

88

Phil reviewed the file for the fifth time as he made his way downtown. The Hawkeye bakery only paid sixty percent of its taxes this year and because of that, Phil was going to have to audit Mr. Barton through three years’ worth of taxes. Phil couldn’t understand why people thought it was okay to steal from the government. 

Phil paused outside of the small building, staring up at the purple sign with slight trepidation. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and paused in surprise. The décor was…something. More like someone had thrown up the color purple everywhere. The walls, the tables, and chairs were all purple. Even more strange were the different types of bow and arrows that littered the wall. Phil wondered how safe that was. The bakery was crowded with customers who clamored over searing eighties rock music that played. 

A homeless man enjoyed a cup of coffee and a danish in the far corner which made Phil blink in surprise. Despite all of the strangeness the countered littered displays full of chiffon birthday cakes, blue-berry muffins, and the fluffiest, most delicious-looking crème puffs Phil has ever laid eyes on. 

A red head carrying a batch of chocolate frosted cupcakes emerged from the back. She paused in surprise when she spotted Phil.

Phil fought the urge he felt to run as the woman stared at him with a laser like focus. Instead, he stepped forward.

The red head placed the pan she held onto the counter. “Can I help you?” 

“I’m Phillip Coulson from the Internal Revenue Service, I was wondering if--” Phil trailed off as the red head suddenly turned away from him and made her way back into the kitchen. He sighed to himself. She didn’t return, instead a man in his mid-thirties emerged from the back. He was wearing a purple t-shirt with the Hawkeye café logo. He didn’t look happy to see Phil which was a reaction he was quite used to. “Uh- are you Mr. Barton?” 

Clint folded his arms in front of his chest. “I am.” He answered. “And you are from the IRS.”  
Phil nodded. “I’m Phil Coulson,” he said. “I’d like to talk to you about your taxes. Can we go somewhere so that we could discuss this matter in private?” 

Clint shook his head as he moved toward the chocolate frosted cupcakes. “No.” He answered. 

Phil raised an eyebrow in surprise. “No?” He repeated. 

Clint nodded as he began to place the cupcakes in the display case. “Anything you need to discuss in private can be discussed in public right here.” 

“Okay.” Phil said kindly. “You know you didn’t pay all of your taxes last year.” 

Clint slammed the display case closed and moved onto the next one. “I’m aware.” He said and Phil looked surprised. 

“Only sixty percent I believe.” 

Clint smirked as he placed another batch of cupcakes into the second display case. “Sixty percent?” He said. “I was aiming lower.” 

Phil sighed in annoyance. “You knowingly stole from the government Mr. Barton. Now because of that you are being audited.” 

“I didn’t steal from the government Mr. Coulson,” Clint said as he closed the second display case. “I simply paid the taxes I believed should be paid.” 

Phil shook his head. “This is not how this works Mr. Barton.” 

Clint ignored him and picked up the phone as it began to ring. “Hawkeye bakery,” he said happily into the phone. He grinned. “Ms. Field! Yes I have your batch of scones ready to be picked up. Okay? Yes. I’ll be sure to do that. See you in an hour.” Clint hung up the phone, his smile dropping again as he turned to face Phil. “Why don’t you tell me how it is exactly Mr. Coulson.” 

Clint’s voice was deep and smooth with only a hint of menace as he addressed Phil. Phil felt himself shiver in the strangest way. “There are laws. Tax laws that we all must follow. Regardless of your own beliefs Mr. Barton, it doesn’t make you exempt from them.” 

Clint chuckled and shook his head. “I’m not trying to be exempt from paying taxes Mr. Coulson.” He sighed heavily as he leaned forward, his expression turning serious. “There’s a group home for kids about a block from here. Across the street is a park that’s falling apart. Hardly any swings, the slides are all rusted out, and the basketball court doesn’t even have any hoops. I’ve been writing letters for three years now trying to get it fixed up. Another block up from the group home is a city financial building that they built in less than a year.” Clint began slipping bagels into little sleeves. “Like I said, I believe in paying taxes. Just not the ones that help build financial buildings that serve no purpose for those who matter.” 

A timer dinged and Clint walked away to turn it off, not bothering to wait for Phil’s response. Phil knew this was going to be a difficult case. 

He watched as Clint bent over to take out the freshly baked scones. The wonderful smell hit Phi’s nose and he felt his stomach grumble in appreciation. More importantly, his eyes caught sight of Clint’s ass, which was nice by the way, his jeans hugged his ass in the most enticing-wait… Clint placed the scones on the cooling rack. What was happening?

Clint turned to face him again, his brow furrowed deeply as he stared at Phil. Suddenly, all Phil can think of how cute that expression was. Oh, god. 

Clint frowned. “What?” 

He was staring. Phil blinked. “Uh. I’m going to have to audit you for the past three years of your returns.” 

Clint shrugged. “Fine.” He said. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and Phil couldn’t help but notice the way his very impressive arm muscles bunched as he moved. Phil felt his mouth turn dry. What was happening? Phil’s eyes tracked their way up Clint’s arms toward his also impressive shoulders which were broad and well defined. His eyes made their trip up Mr. Barton’s neck; Phil never thought a man’s neck could be considered sexy—what? 

Clint’s frown deepened. “Why are you staring at me like a weirdo?” 

Phil blinked the same time he began to fill mortification at being caught staring. “I-uh—I--” Phil was a man of few words. “I’ll have to come back next week.” He said just as the red head emerged from the back again, her expression clearly unhappy as she stood beside Clint and crossed her arms in front of her chest. 

Clint wrapped an arm around the red head’s shoulders and pulled her close. Their comfort and closeness only made Phil assume they were together. “I’m being audited.” He said softly. 

Phil swallowed as the red head scowled at him. “I should go.” He said. “I’ll see you on Monday Mr. Barton.” He turned to go. 

“See you Monday,” The red head called. “Just so you know, I’m going to make you extremely miserable!” 

Phil walked home instead of catching the bus. He isn’t quite sure what happened back at that bakery, but he was certain it won’t happen again. He made it home an hour later, skipping dinner and instead opting to shower. He tried to keep his mind blank as he bathed, but all he could see was intense blue eyes with specks of gold and hazel. Phil didn’t like feeling this way. This…distraction was unprofessional at best. He worked his way through fifteen Sudoku puzzles until the comforting blanket of numbers settled his frazzled nerves. 

If you hadn’t guessed, Phillip Coulson was also gay. Yes. He has had relationships with men, but the last relationship he had been in was almost two years ago. 

Phil slid into bed, staring up at the ceiling. His ex, John, had called him cold, wooden, and unpleasant. That had stung more than Phil was willing to admit and it had caused him to take himself out of the dating game. Tomorrow he’ll get that case transferred to another agent. He turned onto his side. Problem solved. There’ll be no more sexy thoughts about a certain organic bakery owner with killer arms, a killer smile, and kind eyes he could get lost in. 

88

He couldn’t get the case transferred. 

Phil found himself standing outside of the Hawkeye Bakery again at ten in the morning. He stilled himself before making his way inside. The bakery wasn’t as busy as before, but it still bustled with customers. The homeless man was present, this time sitting at the counter, nursing a mug of coffee. Phil could feel a tingle in his belly as he spotted Mr. Barton behind the counter. “Hello Mr. Barton.” 

Clint inclined his head. “Mr. Coulson. I didn’t think I’d see you after Natasha’s threat.” 

Phil forced out a laugh. “I guess I’m brave that way. I’m sure it should just take me the day to make sure the forty percent is all that you owe.”

Clint smiled as if he was in on a secret Phil didn’t know about. “I highly doubt that Mr. Coulson.” 

Phil just shrugged. “Why don’t we start with your taxes from your previous years?” 

Clint nodded and lifted the countertop so he could pass through. “Right this way.” He led Phil toward the back and into a small but neat office which contained a serious looking Natasha. “I don’t think I introduced you two officially. Nat, this is Mr. Coulson. Mr. Coulson, this is Natasha Romanov.”

Natasha stared at Phil as if he were the lowest common denominator. He didn’t like where this was going. “Hello.”

Natasha snarled at him without actually snarling, but the image projected itself inside Phil’s brain. He shivered. 

Clint’s grin widened as he moved around the both of them. “Natasha will show you where the rest of our tax files are. I have deliveries to make.”

Phil watched in surprised silence as Clint exited the office, closing the door with a soft click that sounded deafening to his ears. He turned toward Natasha who was smirking at him. Phil sat down at the desk. “The tax files?” He asked, making sure to keep his voice even. 

Natasha nodded once and pushed a cardboard box toward him. “Here you go.” 

Phil looked inside of the box with a deep frown. “What is this?” 

“The tax files.” Natasha said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. 

Phil pulled out a few errant papers that were sticking out of the box. “You keep your files like this?” 

Natasha gave a small satisfied smile as she answered. “No. Clint is actually very anal about things. I wonder how they got like this on the day you were auditing us.” 

Phil sighed heavily as the young woman left the office, slamming the door closed. He glanced at the box. He peeked inside, his eyes widening at all of the papers inside. With a shake of his head, he took his jacket off and began to roll up his sleeves. He had a long day ahead of him.

888

Phil was ready to pull out the little hair he had left by the time two pm rolled around. His thwarted attempts at trying to communicate in order to get clarification on a few bookkeeping forms were doing nothing short of driving him crazy. Phil had expected more verbal abuse from Natasha, but there was none. He never expected silence to be so infuriating. He grabbed his lunch from his briefcase as he moved outside of the office. He made his way toward the front, moving from around the counter. He spotted Natasha talking to a customer on the other side of the bakery. He avoided eye contact with her and instead opted to sit at the counter. He pulled out the turkey club sandwich he had prepared, pausing in surprise when the homeless man from earlier took the empty seat next to him. Phil could feel his eyes on him, but he studiously ignored the staring. 

“So you’re the facist?” the man asked suddenly. 

Phil blinked in surprise. “Excuse me?” He asked, turning to face the man. 

“The fascist,” he sneered. “The government puppet sent here to steal Clint’s money.” 

Phil spluttered in annoyance. He could feel his carefully held back temper slowly begin to rise. “I’m not—“ 

“Oh, but you are. Ms. Natasha told me all about you. You ought to be ashamed of yourself coming in here! You have no idea the things Clint has done for me. For this community!” 

Phil slowly placed his sandwich down and glared at the man. “I don’t care if you call me a fascist, but can you at least let me finish my damn lunch please!” 

Everyone seemed to pause and stare at feel after his anger outburst. He glared at them, packed up his lunch and made his way toward the back office, slamming the door for good measure. He knew it was completely unprofessional to react that way, but he couldn’t help it he’d been at his tipping point. This was the worst case he’s ever had in his entire career. He tried to finish his work for the next hour, but he couldn’t focus. He kept miscalculating numbers and putting the wrong decimal points in the wrong place. 

He glanced at his watch, frowning when he noticed it was nearing five. He sighed to himself and glanced down at his spread sheet and back at the box which still held loads of paperwork he had to go through. He sighed to himself and rubbed his eyes, and began to refocus. He hunched over the desk and began to work in earnest. The more work he could get through, the less time he had to spend in this bakery. 

88

It was eight thirty when Phil had finally decided he had worked enough. He had gotten through more than half of the paperwork, but would have to return tomorrow. He sighed at the prospect. He made his way from the office, briefcase in hand. The bakery was mostly dark, save for the row of lights over the counter. He immediately spotted Clint, who was suspiciously absent for most of the day, kneading a ball of dough in a bowl. He didn’t bother to fight his mind appreciating Clint’s arms again. He sighed to himself. “Goodnight.” He called and Clint looked up. 

“Hey.” Clint said with a small smile. He nodded toward the stool. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll make you something.”

Now Phil was confused. He was sure this man disliked him, but now here he was offering to make him something. “No.” He said. “No thank you.” He shook his head. “I—should be going.” 

Clint wiped his hands on his apron before he waved Phil over. “Natasha said you had a bad day. I know just what you need.”

Phil was torn, but as he watched Clint turn to prepare whatever it was he was preparing him, he felt his resolve to leave disappear. He let go of the doorknob and made his way toward the counter. He sat with a heavy sigh. “One of your patrons called me a fascist.” 

Clint chuckled as he began chopping up some white chocolate. “Larry? Yeah he hates the government.” 

Phil nodded. “I can tell. Is he homeless?” 

Clint dumped the white chocolate into a pot and placed it onto the little stove. “Yeah. He stays at the shelter on twentieth, but he likes to come in here for the day. I don’t mind, he’s good company.” He combined two cups of milk and cocoa powder in with the melting chocolate. “It’s best to just ignore him when he gets that way.” 

Phil folded his hands in front of himself as he watched Clint move around gracefully. He watched as Clint grabbed a jar of pureed pumpkin and poured it into the pot, cinnamon was next, then nutmeg, cardamom, allspice and ginger. The smell hit Phil’s nose and he felt the tension in his body slowly melting. “That smells wonderful.” He said and Clint grinned. 

“Yeah? It’s something new I’m trying out.” He whisked the drink for a few more moments before he shut it off. He carefully poured the hot drink into the glass, added whipped cream and shaved some cinnamon onto the cream. He topped it off by dipping the stick of cinnamon into the drink. “Here you go one pumpkin white hot chocolate. Enjoy.” 

Phil picked up the cup and took a tiny sip. The sweetness of the white chocolate combined with the kick of the cinnamon and pumpkin had Phil closing his eyes. “Mmm.” He moaned, closing his eyes. Phil absolutely loved pumpkin. It was one of the few things he enjoyed and indulged in. He took another sip and gave another helpless moan. The remnants of his terrible day seemed to disappear from his mind as the taste of this pumpkin white hot chocolate soothed his soul. It was better than any Sudoku puzzle he’d ever touched. When he opened his eyes, Clint was watching him with an intense expression. He slowly placed the glass down and cleared his throat. “Sorry. It’s just—so good.” 

Clint blinked and his expression cleared. “I’m glad you enjoy it Mr. Coulson.” 

They both stared at one another quietly and Phil could feel his heart do a weird double thump as Clint suddenly leaned forward. 

Clint pointed toward his nose. “You have a little cream on your nose.” 

Phil’s hand came up and he quickly wiped his nose. He felt his face heat in embarrassment as Clint watched him with amused eyes. A timer suddenly dinged and Clint turned. He pulled out two large trays full of chocolate chip cookies and placed them onto the cooling rack. Phil swallowed and looked away as he caught sight of Clint’s amazing ass again. He took a sip of the drink again and sighed in pleasure as the taste touched his tongue. It was better the second time. He grabbed a napkin and wiped his nose so he won’t embarrass himself again. He watched as Clint worked, quickly moving the batch of cookies from the tray and into purple boxes with the Hawkeye bakery logo on it. Clint sang softly along to an old country song as he worked and Phil was surprised at how nice his voice sounded. Phil could feel himself relaxing the longer he watched Clint work in his bakery. You didn’t have to be a genius to see that Clint loved what he did. There seemed to be an extra hop in his step as he moved around, placing the cookies in the display case before moving back to the dough he had been kneading a few moments ago. 

“You enjoy what you do.” Phil said and Clint looked up with a soft smile. 

“Oh yeah.” Clint said with a nod. “I love baking.” He looked as though he wanted to say more, but he kept his mouth closed. “What about you?” Clint asked. “You enjoy doing Audits?” 

Phil blinked. Did he enjoy what he did? That was a question he’d never bothered to ask or think about. “I’m good at my job.” He answered simply. Clint looked at him as if he were trying to figure out a secret Phil wasn’t aware he had. 

“Hmm.” Clint finally said. 

Phil frowned. “What?” 

Clint shrugged and shook his head. “It’s nothing. It’s just—well your voice sounded weird when you answered.” He tossed a cup of raisins into the dough. “Hallow like. Empty.” 

Phil tensed as the word empty touched his ears. He bristled. “I enjoy my job just fine.” He said stiffly and Clint held his hands up. 

“Okay fine. No need to get all prickly with me.” 

Phil wondered why he was getting so easily annoyed. “I’m not prickly.” He watched as Clint placed the dough into a bowl and covered it with plastic wrap. 

“Not prickly.” Clint said softly. He turned and placed the bowl into the refrigerator. “Got it.” 

They both turned as the bell on the front door rang and Natasha paused in the doorway as she took in the scene in front of her. Her eyes slid toward Phil and they narrowed immediately. Phil turned away from her, his earlier tension returning full force at the sight of her. 

“Tasha,” Clint said carefully. “I thought you headed on home.” 

Natasha’s eyed Clint suspiciously as she moved further into the bakery. “I left my cellphone here.” She moved around the counter and stood beside Clint. “What’s he still doing here?” 

Phil didn’t bother to hide his annoyed glare. “I was just leaving.” 

Clint frowned. “But you didn’t finish your drink.” He said and Natasha glanced at him with a frown. 

Phil nodded. “I know, but I have to get going.” He pulled out some money, pausing when Clint shook his head. 

“It’s on the house.” Clint said softly. 

Phil merely shook his head. “I—I can’t accept gifts. Here.” He slid a ten dollar bill across the counter. 

Clint frowned. “That’s too much.” He said softly. He reached for one of the box of cookies and slid them toward Phil. 

Phil took the offered box with a nod of his head and a small smile. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

Clint nodded. “Goodnight Mr. Coulson.” 

Phil was out of the door before he could feel any more awkward. 

8888

“Don’t.” 

Clint looked over at Natasha with a small frown. “What?” he said. 

She rolled her eyes. “Good night Mr. Coulson.” She mimicked. “You’re doing that thing you do. You know what I’m talking about. I’m telling you not to do it.” 

Clint rolled his eyes and turned away from his best friend. He did know what she was talking about. The moment Mr. Coulson walked through the door of his bakery, Clint was a goner. He had a thing for men in suits. Like a serious thing. Not to mention the blue eyes and the smile that—Clint’s thoughts grinded to a halt as he turned to face Natasha again who was staring at him with her patented angry expression. “I-“ 

“He’s the enemy!” Natasha hissed.

Clint rolled his eyes. “You’re being dramatic Tash.” He reached for more cookies and began to place them in their packages. “Besides, there is nothing wrong with looking.”

Natasha moved to help him. “Uh huh.” She said. “I can practically hear the sexy thoughts floating through that head of yours.”

Clint shook his head. He wouldn’t go there. He couldn’t. But there was no way in hell Natasha was going stop the sexy thoughts from ensuing. 

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

The next day, Ms. Romanov was strangely absent from the bakery and Phil was glad for it. He was in no mood to be death glared at as he was sure it would eventually cause him to fall dead where he stood. However, Mr. Barton was present standing behind the counter, chatting animatedly with one of his customers. Phil tried not to think about how excited he was to see the very hot bakery owner as he prepared for work this morning. The bakery was bustling with the lunch crowd and Phil spotted two young employees taking orders. 

Phil made his way over toward Clint, placing his briefcase down before taking a seat. “Hello.” 

Clint glanced over with a small smile. “Mr. Coulson, you’ve made your oppression through tyranny appointment.”

Clint’s smile did something wonderful to Phil’s insides. “Never want to miss those” He said as Clint lifted the countertop so Phil could pass through. He brushed passed the Bakery owner and caught the faint manly scent of his cologne. Jesus. 

“Have fun!” Clint called as he made his way into the back office. 

88

“Do you need anything?” Clint asked for maybe the fourth time that day. 

Phil smiled. “No thanks.” He said, not looking up from his work. Phil thought he would be able to work in peace, but it seemed as though Clint found any reason to disturb and distract Phil from his work. He glanced up when he realized Clint was still standing near the door watching him. “Yes?” He asked and Clint shook his head. 

“Nothing.” He said with a hesitant smile. “I uh, better get back to the front.” He closed the door softly. 

Phil shook his head and went back to his work. 

The door swung open again and he was unsurprised to see Clint peek his head back inside. 

“I’ve made my black cherry new York style cheesecake. You should come and have a slice when you take a break.” 

Phil nodded. “Okay, As long as I can pay.” 

Clint rolled his eyes. “Yes you can pay.” He closed the door again, leaving Phil to work through the rest of the afternoon with a small smile on his face. 

Phil finished up at four thirty and the end result of Mr. Barton’s audit was what Phil thought it would be: The Hawkeye bakery was going to pay quite a bit back to the United States Government. Phil sighed as he sat back in his seat. He didn’t know why, but for the first time he felt bad. Sighing to himself, he packed up his briefcase. 

888

“Hey,” Clint greeted, “You all finished up?” 

“Yes.” Phil said softly. He moved to sit at the counter. “I was promised a piece of cheesecake?”

Clint grinned and turned to cut him a large slice. Phil gave in and stared at his ass. He smiled as Clint turned and placed the plate in front of him. “Thank you.” He said and Clint nodded. He reached for his fork and dug in. His eyes closed as the sweetness of the blackberry touched his tongue. “Mmm.” He said, opening his eyes catching Clint staring at him. “It’s good.” 

Something flashed in the baker’s eyes and then it was gone. He smiled at Phil. “So how much do I owe the wonderful U.S. government?” 

The fork paused halfway towards Phil’s mouth. “I’m not permitted to share that with you.” He said. “You’ll receive a summary of the audit in three weeks.” 

Clint stared at Phil for a long moment before rolling his eyes and moving onto a new customer who sat at the counter. 

Phil placed another bite of the delicious cheese cake into his mouth as he watched Clint work, making the ordered drink with practiced hands. He didn’t know why, but he felt like he’d made a misstep somewhere with his words. He cleared his throat when Clint moved toward the display case near him. “Mr. Barton—“ He trailed off when Clint turned away from him without a glace. He sighed and finished the rest of his pie. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some cash, placing it onto the table. He glanced around the odd bakery one more time, knowing it was the last time he was probably going to see this place again. He didn’t know why, but the thought bothered him. He reached for his briefcase and hopped off of the stool. “Have a good evening.” He said, making his way toward the doorway for the twenty minute walk home. 

The rain started up when he was halfway down the block. He brought his suitcase up over his head with a sigh. He would’ve taken the bus, but it stopped running in the early evenings on Tuesdays for whatever reason. He could take a taxi, but he refused to pay thirteen dollars for something that was a ten minute drive. Phil resigned himself to being soaked and continued his track home. He could already feel his sour mood turn even worse as he felt water drip into the back of his collar. He sighed and hurried his steps, once again resigning himself to being soaked once he reached home. 

Someone honked as a black and purple van suddenly pulled up next to the curb. Phil paused in surprise as said owner of the van rolled down the window to reveal Clint. “Hey, want a ride?” 

It was like every romance movie cliché Phil had ever seen with the incredibly handsome man saving the damsel in distress from some sort of disaster. However, similar as the idea was, Phil was no damsel. Clint was still handsome though. 

“Come on.” Clint said when he saw Phil’s indecision. “You’re gonna walk all the way home in this? Storm won’t let up.” 

Phil hesitated more, but when he felt another dribble of water at the back of his neck, he quickly made his decision. He hurried toward the passenger side and slid inside, letting out a sigh as the warmth suddenly hit his face. He briefly glanced over at Clint who was watching him with a friendly smile. “Thanks.” 

Clint nodded. “No problem.” He pulled the car out of park and pulled out onto the road. “Where do you live?”

“Off of Main Street, “ Phil answered softly, “the town houses.” 

“Fancy.” Clint said with the same friendly smile. “I uh, have to make a quick delivery on the way. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“That’s fine.” Phil said softly. He brought his hands up toward the vents, rubbing them together in order to get the feeling back into them. He snuck a glance at Clint, who began to sing softly along to the old country song playing on the radio. Geez, he was handsome and he could sing? Phil swallowed as he took in Clint’s profile, his heart doing a strange double thump when Clint suddenly looked over at him with a different kind of smile. Phil looked away, his face heating up in embarrassment at being caught staring. 

Ten minutes later, Clint pulled into a parking garage, shutting off the car with a sigh. “You can wait here if you want.” He offered. “But it’s pretty warm inside.”

Phil hated waiting. “I’ll go.” He said, slipping out of the passenger side. He was surprised when Clint placed three very large boxes in his arms. “Uh-“ 

“Pastries.” Clint explained, grabbing four boxes from the van. “It’s good you’re here I usually have to make two trips.” 

88

Phil didn’t know how he was roped into this, but his mouth seemed unable to say no. He followed Clint into a somewhat rundown building, pausing in surprise as he spotted the sign on the door. ‘Lincoln Group Home for Boys.’ The sign read. Oh. He followed Clint up two flights of winding stairs, pausing as they reached their destination. He watched as Clint leaned over and pressed the buzzer. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey Shelly, it’s me Clint.” The door buzzed open and Clint pushed his way through, nodding at Phil to follow him. 

A young woman, wearing jeans and a t-shirt came forward with a smile. “Clint!” She greeted with a grin. She grabbed a couple of boxes from him. “It’s good to see you.” 

“You too.” Clint said. He nodded toward Phil. “This is Phil, my friend.” 

Shelia blinked in surprise as she took in Phil who probably looked like a drowned tax agent. “Hello.” She said. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” Phil said awkwardly. 

Shelia nodded. “Well, let’s go head to the kitchen to put these in the fridge really quickly. Clint, the kids have been asking about you all day.” 

‘Kids?’ Phil thought to himself as he followed Clint and Shelia. 

888

Children made Phil uncomfortable. 

“Are you still going to have archery lessons with us Clint?” Clint, who was sitting on the couch with fifteen other boys, seemed to be in his element. 

“We’ll be starting next week.” Clint said softly. “As long as you can continue to follow the rules.” He smiled at them as a chorus of yesses surrounded him. 

Phil felt himself inching his way toward the door, pausing in surprise as he collided with a young boy. “Uh-“ 

“Who are you?” The young boy asked and Phil could only stand there awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say. 

The boy tilted his head as his eyes surveyed Phil up and down. “You are dressed like my lawyer.” He said finally. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you someone’s law guardian?”

Clint took that moment to save Phil from embarrassing himself. “Anthony this is my friend. Mr. Phil.” He patted Phil’s shoulder with a smile. “He works with numbers.” 

Interest flashed in Anthony’s eyes as he stared at Phil. “You like numbers?” He asked and Phil just nodded. “I have a Sudoku board game. Wanna play?” 

Phil was sold on the mention of Sudoku; thoughts of going home to a warm shower flew out of his mind and he let himself be pulled by the little boy named Anthony toward the table full of board games. 

An hour later and Phil was finishing off his last board with a grin. Anthony was a formidable opponent, but open to Phil’s suggestions on how to solve a board quicker. “Good game.” Phil said, holding out his hand to Anthony to shake it. 

Anthony grinned and shook his hand. “Thanks!” He hurried off toward the others. Phil turned catching Clint’s gaze as the Bakery owner made his way toward him. 

“Ready to go?” Clint asked, the expression in his eyes doing strange things to Phil’s stomach. Phil nodded. 

88

The ride toward Phil’s house was quiet for the first five minutes, both men seemingly in their own thoughts. 

“That was great what you did for Anthony,” Clint said suddenly, “He has a real hard time socializing with anybody.”

“He’s a great kid.” Phil said with a small smile. His mood, he realized had lifted considerably. “He’s quite intelligent.” 

“Yeah. Clint agreed with a smile. “You know the home is looking for more volunteers to be mentors. You should look into it.” 

Children mostly made Phil uncomfortable, but Anthony hadn’t been too bad. “I think I might.” 

Clint grinned. “Great!” He said excitedly. “I can get you the paperwork or you could print it off of their website.” 

Phil gave him an amused smile. “I think I can manage the website.” He glanced at Clint. “How long have you been volunteering there?” 

Clint’s smile turned soft. “For about seven years now. Right around the same time I opened up the bakery.” He briefly glanced over at Phil. “It’s—kind of personal to me.” 

Phil wanted to ask more questions, but he wasn’t quite sure if he should. “You seem very passionate about it.” He said instead. 

Clint just nodded and soon they were turning into his complex. “Where do I stop?” Clint asked softly. 

“Fifty-four. Right here.” Phil directed and Clint pulled into his driveway. 

Clint placed the van into park. “Here we are.” He announced, turning in his seat to face Phil. 

“Thank you.” Phil said, staring ahead. He could feel Clint’s eyes on him; could see the bakery owner watching him out of the corner of his eye. He felt his stomach quiver with a feeling he hasn’t felt in a very long time. 

“You’re welcome Phil.” 

Phil blinked slowly; the way Clint said his name causing another involuntary shiver to rush through him. He finally glanced at Clint with a small smile. “Despite meeting through such strange circumstances it’s been nice to meet you.” 

Clint nodded. “I’m glad to hear it.” 

Phil nodded once and turned to go and paused. “I advise you to fill out tax form 4549. Since your business participates in charitable work. I’d suggest you make the IRS know that so your audit can be corrected.” 

Clint was quiet for a moment before speaking quietly. “I don’t do it for a tax write off.” 

He sounded offended and Phil briefly closed his eyes with a sigh. “Of course you don’t.” He said. “But in order to save your business I suggest you do this.” He was already saying too much. “Please.” He glanced up, relieved to see Clint nodding his head. “Goodnight.” He slid out of the van, knowing he was more than likely never going to see Clint Barton again. The thought made his chest ache. 

88

Clint watched Phil walk up his driveway, up the three steps and into his house. “Fuck.” He sighed out loud, wondering why he let the moment pass without making some kind of a move. 

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Three weeks later**

 

“Coulson get in here!”                                                                                           

 

Phil winced as the sound of his supervisor Nick Fury’s voice touched his ears.   He idly wondered if he should pretend he wasn’t at his desk, but quickly nixed that idea as the consequences for doing that was too great. He slowly stood up, ignoring the sound of the death march coming from his cubicle neighbor. “Very funny, Martin.”

 

“I’ll pray for you.” Martin said, pulling out his prayer beads he kept on his desk.  Phil rolled his eyes.

 

He paused briefly in the doorway, taking a deep breath before stepping fully inside.

 

“Have a seat Coulson.” Nick ordered. The black eye patch he wore making him seem completely intimidating and ominous.

 

 Fury’s large oak desk seemed larger than usual as Phil slowly sat down in the in the uncomfortable plastic chair.  Leave it to Nick Fury to make sure whoever he was disciplining was also physically uncomfortable. “Is there something the matter Sir?” He asked.

 

Nick grabbed the folder on his desk and glanced through it before looking up at Phil with a hard stare. “I read your audit summary on the Hawkeye Bakery.” 

 

Phil nodded. “Is everything in order? I’m sure I correctly filled out every-“

 

“Can you please tell me why a business that hasn’t paid all of their taxes in three years only has to pay back the IRS two hundred and fifty dollars?”  Nick cut in.

 

Phil blinked in confusion. “I thought I put the reasoning in my report….Sir.” Phil watched as Nick’s right eye twitched.  Oh, geez. 

 

“It is in your report and while the reasoning behind it seems to make sense, I don’t understand how something that was going to be a large repayment end up only at two-hundred and fifty dollars!”

 

Phil swallowed. “The owner filled out a 4549 before the report was completed.  He had all of the supporting paperwork.”

 

Fury narrowed his eye.  “Coulson-“

 

“I don’t understand Sir.” Phil cut in.  “I followed procedure. I completed the audit.”

 

Nick nodded and closed the folder with a sigh. He eyed Phil for a long moment before speaking.  “These results are unlike you Coulson.”

 

Phil shrugged as Clint’s kind face flashed in his mind. He smiled a bit. “The math was there. The reasoning made sense.”

 

Nick rolled his eye. “Get out of here.” He ordered and Phil quickly stood up, glad to be out of the lion’s den.  “The reasoning made sense.” Nick mimicked under his breath as he shook his head.

 

88

 

“Ah, shit! Goddammit!”

 

Natasha looked up from the Scones she was preparing to bake. She frowned as she looked at her best friend who was reaching into the oven with a deep frown on his face. “Burn yourself again?” She asked.

 

“Yeah.” Clint muttered as he pulled out the burnt batch of chocolate chip cookies. “Burnt this batch too.”  He tossed the charred batch into trashcan. “I hate wasting food.” He said.

 

Natasha tossed two cups of cranberries into the mixing bowl, kneading the dough as she spoke again. “You’ve been distracted lately.” She glanced up at him again, unsurprised to see the frown considerably deeper on his face. “What?” She said. “It’s true.”

 

Clint frowned as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I have not been distracted.” He said rather distractedly.

 

Natasha rolled her eyes as she stepped away from her task. “Yes. You have.” She said poking him in the shoulder. “Ever since our visit with Mr. Tax agent you’ve been nothing but distracted and swoony.”

 

Clint glared down at her, annoyed that she would even mention Phil. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” He said instead, turning away from her in order to move onto the next oven where his cupcakes were baking.  He did miss Phil. That much was true, but he was definitely not going to admit that to Natasha as he was not in the mood for more of her anti-tax agent speeches.   He pulled the oven door open, frowning when a plume of smoke rose from inside. “Son of a bitch!” He cursed.

 

“That’s it.” Natasha said pushing him toward the exit. “Go!” She ordered. “Take a break. Go brood or whatever. Don’t come back until you’re sane again."

 

“Hey!” Clint complained. “Nat, I’m not—“ He trailed off as she pushed him out of the kitchen.  He turned to go with a heavy sigh, moving into his office while muttering to himself about annoying red headed best friends. “Stupid Natasha always knowing what I’m thinking.” He muttered petulantly, throwing himself into his desk chair. 

 

He reached for his mail and quickly flicked through the envelopes passing by the bills and his subscription renewal to Cake and bake magazine. He paused as his eyes caught sight of the words Internal Revenue Service.  Clint’s stomach did that weird tingle it does when it comes to Phil and wasn’t that pathetic? Still, Clint quickly opened the letter.

 

_Dear Mr. Barton,_

_Based on the information you submitted an adjustment has been made to the examination of your tax return for the above years.  Please send the following payment amount: 250.00. Please find the payment information on the attached form. If you have any other questions, please feel free to contact the appropriate persons._

_Sincerely,_

_Phillip J. Coulson_

 

Clint read and re-read the letter five times; trying to read between the lines while somehow hoping the words that he truly wanted to see would appear on the page. He brushed his finger across Phil’s name with a sigh, glancing inside the envelope again to see if there was more.  Jesus, he was pathetic.  Clint didn’t really believe in love at first sight, but meeting Phil made Clint think that such a thing was a possibility. Those blue eyes that crinkled when he smiled and that smile…it did things to Clint; serious things.

 

He never felt so much longing for someone in his entire life. He ran a shaky hand down the side of his face. His brain told him he was being ridiculous. His heart told him his feelings were right. His gut…well his gut told him he knew exactly what he needed to do and Clint almost always went with his gut.

 

888

 

Clint paced outside of the IRS building silently questioning his sanity. "This is crazy." He muttered with a shake of his head. He turned to go then stopped with another shake of his head.  If he left he would never know if this thing with Phil would ever go anywhere.  But what if Phil saw him standing there like a freaking stalker? Clint let out a huff and turned to walk back toward his van. "You're an idiot." He muttered to himself.

 

"Clint?"

 

He froze and quickly turned, surprised to see Phil standing there in his tax agent suit, briefcase in hand, a surprised smile on his face.

 

Clint moved back toward the entrance. "Phil." He greeted and his voice totally just squeaked. "I uh-hey."

 

"Hey." Phil greeted back. He stepped away from the entrance. "What are you doing here?" He asked and Clint froze as she tried to search for an answer.

 

"Uh-" Clint stuttered, scratching his head. "I-Uh-I was in the neighborhood and-" Jesus really?  "I just wanted to say thanks--you know for the tip."

 

Phil looked a little squirrely as he thanked him and the older man glanced back at the building before glancing back at him. He waved him off. "No need for thanks. I just was doing my job."

 

Clint nodded. "Right-I uh-Right." He was being very smooth right now. What's happening to him?  Both men stood awkwardly staring at each other and Clint swallowed as Phil tilted his head at him.

 

"Were you really in the neighborhood?" Phil asked with an amused smile.

 

Clint chuffed out a nervous laugh as he shook his head. "Was I that obvious?" He asked and Phil shrugged.

 

"A bit." He answered with a soft smile.

 

Clint felt his mouth go dry as he realized how much he missed that smile.  "Sorry."

 

Phil laughed softly. "No need to apologize." He said. "I was actually on my way to the group home. I have to complete some paperwork for the mentor program."

 

Clint perked up at the mention of the group home. "Oh? I can give you a lift there if you want."

 

"Okay." Phil said without hesitation. He moved toward Clint's van and Clint fought down the ridiculous urge to fist pump as he followed Phil closely behind.

 

888

 

Phil tried not to overthink the choice he made once he saw Clint standing outside his place of work.  He may be a little oblivious when it came to this sort of thing, but he was no fool.  He knew Clint was interested and this was an unfamiliar feeling for Phil.  Someone being interested in him.  Someone younger. Someone undoubtedly attractive. Phil knew he would be a fool to let his always logical mind talk him out of agreeing to the offered ride. 

 

He loosened his tie as he made his way into the van. He settled into the passenger seat with a slight smile. "At least this time it isn't raining." He said as he watched Clint climb into the driver's seat.

 

"Yeah." Clint agreed with his own smile. "It's great that you're volunteering. It's so hard to get volunteers."

 

Phil nodded in understanding. "You were very good at convincing me." He said, not bothering to hide the innuendo in his tone and he wondered when he became so brave?

 

Clint flushed as he turned back to the road ahead of him.

 

88

 

They had stayed at the group home longer than intended and watching Phil interact with the children had Clint's insides from doing that ridiculous melting again. God he was hopeless.  Now they were settling into Clint's van, with Clint trying to work up the nerve to ask Phil if he wanted to grab a bite.

 

"So," Clint started, "Off to home?" He asked as he started up his van.

 

"Actually, I’m kind of hungry." Phil said softly, glancing at Clint expectantly.

 

"Oh, I know a great burger place on ninth. Rubies?"

 

Phil nodded. "I've heard of that place. I've never been."

 

Clint grinned as he pulled out the parking space and made his way down the road. "Then you're in for a treat."

 

88

 

Rubies was a relaxed atmosphere. The decorum was certainly interesting. The tables were and walls were made of lumber. Pictures of John Wayne, Harry Carry and other famous cowboy actors lined the walls. Country music played softly through the speakers around the restaurant.  It was obvious what kind of motif they were going for Phil thought as he looked around. He glanced down as two glasses of beers were placed on the table.  "Thank you." He said with a nod.

 

"Yeah thanks." Clint said, grabbing his beer and taking a healthy sip.

 

There was small talk.

 

Clint wasn't from the city, Phil had learned. "Iowa?" Phil asked with a tiny smile. "That's a long ways from home."

 

Clint shrugged with a slight smile. "Yeah pretty much." He said with a slight shrug. "I came here when I was in my twenties. I've pretty much lived all around the United States."

 

Phil could tell there was more to that story, but he didn't push. "I was born and raised here." He said softly.  "I went to college in New York though." He shrugged. "That's pretty much the only time I’ve been out of this state." 

 

"I love travelling." Clint admitted, taking another sip of his beer. "This is the longest I’ve been idle. Ever since I started the bakery." He shook his head. "Nat thinks I’m due for a little change of scenery."

 

Phil smiled. “You planning on going somewhere?” He asked and Clint shook his head.

 

“No.” He said softly, his eyes shyly looking away from Phil and back again. "I think there's something keeping me here for the moment."

 

Phil felt his stomach tingle in a way he hadn’t felt since he was an adolescent. He took a large gulp of his beer so he wouldn’t say anything stupid. He wasn’t good at flirting. This was uncharted territory for him and he didn’t want to make a fool of himself.

 

Their food arrived shortly after and Phil was grateful for the distraction from his useless floundering to respond to the obvious flirty interest.  He grabbed his knife and carefully begun to separate his food from each other.

 

Clint cut into his steak, watching Phil will an amused smile as he bought the meat up to his lips. He slowly chewed and swallowed. “I see you have a whole system there.” He commented.

 

Phil, who was busy pushing his mashed potatoes far away from his broccoli, looked up startled.  He felt his cheeks flush as he smiled a bit sheepishly. “Uh, yeah.” He said softly.  “I don’t like my food to touch each other on the plate.” He said softly. “It’s weird to me. Mixing the food up is just odd.” Phil looked pointedly at Clint’s food.

 

Clint glanced down at his plate to see a piece of steak he’d stuck into his mash potatoes. He chuckled as he lifted the fork up and placed the mashed potato covered steak into his mouth. He chewed slowly and swallowed with a quiet mmm.  “I say it doesn’t matter because it all ends up in the same place anyway.”

 

Phil chuckled as he carefully cut his steak and took a bite.  “Well, “ He said after swallowing his food. “How else will you taste each flavor individually?” He asked spearing a piece of broccoli. He placed it into his mouth, sighing as he tasted the light buttercream it was sautéed in.

 

‘Food porn.’ Was all Clint could think as he stared at Phil whose eyes were closed in obvious broccoli loving delight. He shoved a piece of carrot into his mouth and chewed slowly.  “Something tells me you like other things in your life to be perfect and orderly.”

 

Phil nodded without hesitation. “Yes.” He said quietly. He didn’t really want to go into it as it was always something his ex-boyfriend would want to fight about.

 

Clint nodded and let the comment drop into the bag of things he wouldn’t touch on as it obviously made Phil uncomfortable. “I don’t see anything wrong with that.” He said, grinning when Phil gave him a tiny smile.   The two finished their meals in a comfortable silence, both noticing there was no more need for small talk as they were both content to just be around one another.

 

After a few more beers, they fought over who would pay the check and Clint failed at trying to convince Phil to thank him for the IRS tip.  Phil refused to accept stating it wasn’t appropriate and Clint grudgingly accept the point, letting Phil pay the check.

 

“You can pay next time.” Phil said softly and Clint blinked in surprise as Phil just confirmed their next date….maybe date?

 

It was almost eleven by the time Clint pulled up in front of Phil’s house to drop him off. Phil fingered the buttons on his suit jacket as he turned to face Clint with a small smile. “So-thanks.” He said softly. “I had fun.”

 

Clint nodded enthusiastically. “Me too.” He rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous gesture.

 

“So,” Clint started.

 

“I,” Phil started at the same time and they both laughed nervously. Clint gestured that Phil should go first.

 

“I was going to suggest that we hang out tomorrow night.” The sentence surprised Phil himself. “If you want.”

 

Clint nodded enthusiastically. “Of course!” He said a bit too excitedly, but he didn’t care at the moment. “Okay. I was going to ask for your number?”

 

“Oh.” Phil said, watching as Clint pulled out his cellphone. “Okay.” He rattled off his cell phone number and Clint called him so he could save his number. “Well I better go,” He said reaching for the door handle. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

 

Clint nodded silently, watching as Phil slid out of his van as his hand tightened on the steering wheel as Phil slammed the door closed. What was wrong with him? He was smoother than this! Why didn’t he make a move? Clint glanced down at his lap with a deep sigh before glancing back up at Phil who slowly made his way to the doorway. “Fuck this.” Clint said, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door. “Hey Phil!” he called.

 

Phil paused and turned with surprise as he watched Clint jog up his driveway toward him. “Yes-“ He was cut off as Clint suddenly wrapped both hands around his face and pulled him in for a kiss. He tensed for a moment before slowly wrapping his arms around the younger man and returning the kiss with just as much enthusiasm.  

 

The kiss was warm, but gentle and passionate. Both men took their time exploring; sampling. Clint’s lips were soft and inviting. Phil’s lips were sensual and expert in how they moved against Clint’s own. The kiss seemed to go on forever, until Phil pulled away panting.

 

“Need to breathe.” He said after a few moments. He glanced up at Clint who was watching him with an intense expression.

 

“That was-“ Clint trailed off as he swallowed and took a deep breath. “Sorry I attacked you.”

 

Phil smiled amusedly as he shook his head. He squeezed Clint’s shoulder. “No you aren’t.”

 

Clint nodded as he agreed.  He swallowed as he stepped back, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I better go.” He said quietly.

 

Phil nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow.”

 

Clint walked backwards, nearly stumbling over a crack in the sidewalk. “I’ll text you.” He said before turning and hurrying back into his van.

 

Phil watched the Hawkeye Bakery van make its way down the street and turn the corner. He sighed as he leaned over to unlock his door.  He made his way inside his house and closed the door, leaning against with another sigh. Never did he imagine his day to turn out like this.  His life was very structured. He was used to routine and he was surprised at the fact that he felt no anxiety by the disruption of his routine.  He switched the living room light on as he made his way further in his house, pausing as he caught sight of his Sudoku puzzles and smiled as he felt no urge to use them.

 

Phil shook his head as he turned and made his way upstairs, thinking that maybe there was hope for him yet.

 

888

 

Natasha glanced up from swiping the counter clean, pursing her lips as Clint strolled through the front door. “Well Well.” She said softly.

 

Clint sighed as he shut the front door, locked it and turned the sorry we’re closed sign. “Everything go okay today?” He asked, ignoring her knowing stare.

 

Natasha crossed her arms in front of her chest as she nodded. “Of course. No thanks to you.” She moved around the counter to inspect him. “Hmm.” She said, tilting her head to the side as she scrutinized him. “I’m just wondering where you disappeared to…” She trailed off as she leaned over and sniffed his t-shirt. “I smell the stink of tax agent all over you.”

 

Clint glared at her. “Nat!” He yelled.

 

Natasha ignored his harsh reprimand. “I don’t even know what you see in that guy. I mean seriously? He seems like the most mundane person I’ve ever encountered.  Did you notice that he had the same exact lunch every time he was here? He clearly lacks imagination; possibly disdains variety. Not to mention he works for the government!”  She glanced up at her best friend, frowning at the expression on his face. “What?” She asked.

 

“He’s not like that.” Clint explained softly. “He’s-There’s more to him than what is underneath that suit. I can see it.” He glanced at Natasha with a pleading expression. “I—I really like this guy Nat.”

 

Natasha’s expression softened as she stared at Clint, her eyes flashing with a sudden realization. “Geez.” She said quietly. Clint was in love. This was new. Clint didn’t do romantic relationships. He didn’t do love or attachments like this. Neither did Natasha which was why she felt Clint was her kindred spirit in a sense. She didn’t quite know what to say.  “What are you going to do?” She asked instead. This was a foreign concept to her.

 

“I’m going to take a shower.” He said as he moved around her. “Possibly a cold one.”

 

She frowned. “Ew.” She said and he merely shrugged. She watched as he made his way around the counter toward the back staircase.

 

“You asked.” Clint called over his shoulder.

 

TBC


End file.
